


Remind Me

by missmahem



Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marriage Story (2019) Fusion, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Charlie Barber - Freeform, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Divorce, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love, Love/Hate, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Rough Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, marriage story, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmahem/pseuds/missmahem
Summary: You are a display designer for the historical society looking for a change of scenery. When you hear of an opening at the local theater company for a set designer, you just have to apply. Little did you know that the owner and director, Charlie, would send your life into turmoil--love life included. From the moment the two of you meet, there's just something that reminds you of each other.Join me for an angsty, heartbreaking series surrounding the Marriage Story.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second fic I've ever written! This one is based around another of my all-time fav Adam Driver characters, Charlie Barber.

You had never run late before and today was definitely going to be one of those days. You sat in the subway car, tapping your foot impatiently, as you eagerly awaited your next stop. Of course, today would be the day that you decide to not take your vehicle out in the city. And of course, today you would forget half your portfolio and have to turn right around to go back to your townhouse.

You were on your way to apply for the set designer position at a well-known theater company in town. While working at the historical society building museum exhibits was a cool gig and paid great, your heart was truly in theater set design. When you heard of the opening through the grapevine, you nearly fell off the ladder you were climbed on at work. For years, you had dreamed of working in that setting.

And now, here you are. Running a lot later than you would have liked to throw your portfolio at whatever snobby bastard ran the theater company. Thankfully, the office was accepting applications until 5pm, so you would make it literally 10 minutes before time was up.

The subway came to a screeching halt and you were practically prying the doors open with your hands. You flew out of the car and up the stairs to the street where busy New York City bustled around you. You looked down to make sure your chosen outfit was still intact. By your mother’s description, you dressed like a “modern day hippie.” Whatever. It was cute. You were wearing a pair of dark denim bell bottoms, a white button up shirt tucked in, and topped with a taupe colored sweater.

You rounded the corner to the theater company and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. Everything about theater entranced you—the set, the actors, the costumes. You checked your watch. 4:45pm on the dot as you entered the building.

Passing a few garment racks, you made your way to the series of offices that were situated to the side of the company. An older woman set at the front desk.

“Hi,” you said way too cheerfully, “I’m here to submit an application for the set designer position.”

“Oh, yes,” she checked the time, “just a minute and I’ll check in with Charlie.”

Charlie, huh. He must run the place. The lady walked over to a door, poking her head inside. She spoke in a hushed tone. You looked around and tapped your foot as she made her way back to the desk.

“I’m sorry hunny, but he said we aren’t taking any more applicants.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, “I thought you were taking submissions until 5pm?”

You were getting agitated, but you had to remind yourself to not get angry with her sweet lil face. It was fucking Charlie.

“I am sorry, but Charlie said that we’ve had enough submissions for the day.”

You eyed that door where this supposed Charlie was cooped up.

“Oh, he did? Well, I can tell him that I didn’t bust my ass to get all the way across town to not even be considered.”

You pushed past her desk, striding over to Charlie’s office. You didn’t even knock, you just went inside. And Charlie, well…He definitely wasn’t what you were expecting.

First of all, he was fucking huge. He was pacing his office, flipping through some documents before halting at the sight of you. Secondly…He was fucking gorgeous. And, per usual and due to way too many blind dates, you eyed his left hand looking for a ring. There was one there.

“Can I help you?” Uhm, fuck. His voice was baritone and absolutely delicious. He eyed you, like he was burning a hole through you.

“Yes, I’m here to submit my portfolio for consideration for the set designer position.” You stood your ground in the doorway, extending your arm holding a folder which contained a collection of sets you had created.

He crossed the office to stand in front of you, taking the folder. He quickly flipped through it and you couldn’t help but study his face.

“I’m sorry, but like I told Sylvia to tell _you_ ,” he handed the folder back to you, “we already have enough submissions.”

Your jaw clenched, “Well, I’m here to tell _you_ that the advertisement for the posting said ‘accepting applications until 5pm.’ And guess what? My ass was in here at 4:45pm, so you could at least give me some damn consideration.” You thrust the portfolio back into his arms. You unintentionally bumped his stomach and yep…He was definitely sculpted under that sweater. Holy fuck.

He scoffed at you, “Regardless, I doubt that’s anyway to speak to a possible future employer.”

He took the folder and placed it on his desk. You were absolutely seething.

“I will look over it,” he said finally.

“Great,” you said through gritted teeth, “my contact information is already in there. An email or text is the best way to reach me.”

He turned to face you. He looked absolutely astonished that you were speaking to him like this.

“Great,” he said, never losing eye contact with you.

You nodded, “Alright then.”

You turned quickly, slamming the door behind you. You practically ran past the receptionist, aka Sylvia, out onto the street. Holy shit… You really just did that. You panted trying to catch your breath as you held a death grip on the strap of your crossbody bag.

You hailed a taxi and plopped in the backseat. You didn’t bother speaking to the driver, just tried to calm your brain and focus on the 70s music that was playing through the speakers. What the fuck just happened? That was definitely not how it was supposed to go. And Charlie? God damn, he’s fucking gorgeous—but married. Typical.

The taxi came to a halt in front of your townhouse. You paid your driver and made your way inside. You loved your home. It had been in the family for generations and you had done the majority of the renovations. Refinishing the original hardwood floors, new tile in the bathrooms and kitchen, paint—all kinds of paint. Your mother had suggested hiring a man to help you, but you definitely didn’t need it. Your townhome was clean, but lived in. Warm shades of white, gray, black, gold, and sage green adorned every room. There were plants everywhere.

You set the oven to preheat and set out some leftover lasagna from the night before. One of your skills you absolutely boasted about was your cooking ability. After years of eating the same things over and over back home, you combined your love of southern food with an ambition to learn how to cook. You set a timer and put your food in, pouring yourself a glass of wine at the same time. After a day like today, you definitely needed it.

You ascended the stairs to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off inside the door. You took a sip of wine before stripping and switching into some lounge clothes. You tied your hair up in a bun and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flushed from the stress of you encounter earlier of that day and your eyes looked so tired. Ugh.

The timer on the oven dinged, demanding your attention back downstairs. You made your plate and refilled your wine before settling in on your sofa. You scrolled through Netflix trying to find something to watch, but, as usual, settled for the same reality television show reruns you had already watched a hundred times. You had just finished eating when a familiar ring tone chimed on your phone—your mom calling to FaceTime.

“Hey mom,” you answered. She was propped up in bed with your dad, him reading a book.

“Welllll, how did it go?” she asked. You took a sip of wine and let out a sigh. “That bad, hun?”

“No…Not really, I guess. It definitely didn’t go according to plan.”

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

You went on to tell her about the entirety of the charade. How you had such high hopes for the interview and then you felt like a bad bitch and decided to berate the owner of the god damn theater company. She looked shock, to say the least.

“Well…I, uh. At least you made an impression,” she finally replied, removing her glasses and turning out the light. The loss of light elicited an irritated huff from your dad who was still reading his book. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I guess so. If they don’t call back, whatever.”

“So, tell me about that Charlie fella again.” Of course. Never fails.

“Mom, he’s married. Hot, but married. Can we not?”

“Sorry, sorry! Just thought maybe…” she trailed off pulling the blankets up around her shoulders.

“Ooookay, I’m going to bed,” you sighed, “love you guys.”

“Love you!” your mom and dad said in unison.

The call ended and you leaned your head back on the couch. Leave it to your mother to make it about whatever man you came in contact with.

You washed your dishes and set the alarm for the night before returning to your bedroom. You had just laid down for bed and rolled over when your phone dinged on the nightstand. Of fucking course.

 _Hi._ That’s all the message said. Weird. You didn’t recognize the number.

 _Who is this?_ you responded. They didn’t respond immediately, but a typing bubble came up.

 _It’s Charlie._ Uhm, okay.

 _Oh, hey. What’s up?_ What’s up? WHAT’S UP? What is wrong with you?

 _I just looked over your portfolio and I’m very impressed with your work. And after our meeting today, I can tell that you’re a self-starter and a competitor—you remind me of myself. I’d like to offer you the position,_ was his reply.

You gawked at the screen. You couldn’t believe it. You were definitely a mix of terrified and excited, but you were even more shocked that he offered you the fucking job after ripping his ass earlier.

 _That’s great! I’d love to work with you,_ you typed back.

 _Perfect, when would you be available to start?_ he responded.

 _Whenever,_ you sent back.

_Tomorrow, 8:30 am, at the coffee shop beside the theater. Don’t be late._

What have you gotten yourself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which we spend more time with Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2. Please note that I am totally making things up about Marriage Story, including the settings and characters. Enjoy.

The anticipation for the day ahead made you toss and turn all night, which eventually ended with you saying “fuck it” and getting up way earlier than your alarm. The extra time allowed you to get some yoga in and a long shower. Now, you stood staring at your closet while a bagel toasted downstairs. What the hell were you supposed to wear? Literally, the most miniscule task on the face of the planet had you ready to rip your perfectly styled hair out.

After about ten minutes of digging through your never ending closet, you pieced together an outfit. You opted for a camel colored, button up skirt that hugged your hips. You topped it with a denim button up, tucked in, and a gray cardigan. You added some leopard print loafers, grabbed your bagel and purse, and you were out the door.

The morning air in upper Manhattan was crisp as fall slowly crept its way in. You decided to drive downtown today, given the extra time you had. Traffic was, as always, ridiculous. It never failed. You pulled into park at 8:15 and headed on in the coffee shop. You didn’t see Charlie anywhere, so you hopped in line to order a coffee to go with your bagel. The line was long and you found yourself constantly looking for Charlie. You finally reached the front of the line to give the barista your order.

“Hi, can I get a grande iced coffee with soy milk and two pumps of vanilla,” you said, digging through your purse to find your debit card.

“Sure, that will be $4.89,” he replied.

“That’s on me, Blake,” you heard that baritone voice come from behind you. You turned and sure enough, Charlie was behind you, towering over you.

“You got it, boss,” Blake said to Charlie, “the usual?”

“Yep,” Charlie said, never breaking eye contact with you as he reached around you to hand Blake money. “Keep the change.”

“Alright we will have it right out.”

You moved to the side when Charlie led you to a high top table situated in the corner of the busy shop.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, seating yourself across from him.

He ran a hand through that luscious hair, “Yeah, well I wanted to.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“So, Y/N, tell me about yourself.” He relaxed in his chair, propping his elbow and resting his chin on his hand. You had just noticed that he had taken out a small notebook and a pen to write with.

You chuckled, “Are you taking notes about me?”

He smirked, “Perhaps. Go on.” He gestured toward you and you noticed that wedding band was gone. Interesting.

You sighed, “Okay…So, yeah. I’ve been working for the historical society for the last couple years. Interesting, but terribly boring. Graduated top of my class at UCONN. Uhm…” You didn’t know what he wanted to know. To be frank, you were kinda boring.

“Tell me about you, Y/N,” he said.

Oh god. The sound of your name rolling off his perfect, plush mouth was enough to make you squirm in your seat.

You blushed, “Uh, well. I’m a loner. My family lives in Ohio. I live in upper Manhattan in a townhome that’s been in our family for literal years. I renovated it myself.”

Blake delivering your coffee interrupted your speech. You smiled at him and thanked him before continuing.

“I like coffee, obviously,” you paused, taking a sip of your coffee. You noticed Charlie scribbling down notes as you spoke, “I love to cook. I love a clean house and candles and long baths. I like to read and write.”

You looked up from the bagel you were picking at as opposed to eating to see Charlie staring at you, a small smile on his face.

You blushed, again. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, brow furrowing. He returned his notepad and pen back to his briefcase.

“What is it?” you asked again.

“You have a beautiful voice. I’d assume you can sing,” he said.

You tucked some stray hair behind your ear, “I mean, I can. I just don’t really do it in front of other people.”

“Why not?” He started gathering his briefcase and coffee as a signal it was time to leave. You gathered your things as well and followed him outside.

“I don’t know, I just don’t. I guess I’m nervous,” you laughed.

You walked side by side to the theater where he held the door open for you. He led you to a side door, opening it for you and leading you up some stairs. He stopped abruptly on the landing, causing you to almost run over him. He peered down at you and you felt like you could melt. He was so strong and smelled so good. Fucking hell, working for this man would be the death of you.

“If you’re ever not nervous,” he murmured, eyes searching your face, “I’d love to hear you.” You swallowed thickly. This man made you so jittery.

A weak “okay” was all you could manage before Charlie smiled at you and continued to lead you up the stairs. He held the door open for you again—what a fucking gentleman—and you entered a large room with people bustling around you.

You followed closely behind Charlie across the room, trying to make yourself as small as possible as to not attract any attention. Of course, that failed miserably. Charlie took your bag and placed it with his things behind a desk which you assumed to be his. A short, older man approached you as Charlie was sorting through some items on the desk.

“Well, who the hell do we have here?” he asked. Definitely gave creepy old man vibes.

Charlie chimed in, “Leave her alone, Frank. She’s our new set designer.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Frank. I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand.

He whistled, “Whew, Charlie. Might wanna keep a hold on this one. She’s got a good handshake.” And he walked off. What the fuck.

“Frank is, uhm…”

Charlie laughed, leaning on the edge of the table, “Yeah, I know. He’s been in theater for years. He’s a good time, just a little rough around the edges.”

You laughed leaning against the table beside Charlie. He seemed shocked that you were comfortable enough around him to do so. He clapped his hands a couple times, getting the attention of the company. The commotion stilled and everyone went quiet, turning to face you and Charlie.

“Good morning everyone,” Charlie said.

A chorus of “good mornings” rang through the room.

“Alright, so before we get started today, I just want to introduce our new set designer, Y/F/N Y/LN.” Charlie gestured to you, you offered a small wave to everybody. Some waved back, some didn’t seem to a care. One woman in particular didn’t look too happy with you for some reason.

“So, on today’s agenda…” he dug out his notepad and flipped a few pages, “we will be doing run throughs practically all day, specifically to give Y/N a feel for whatever changes she feels we should make to the set. After that, we will be doing a full dress rehearsal to prep for the show opening next Saturday. Other than that… It’s Friday night, and I think some of us will be heading to Guiseppe’s for dinner tonight. Let’s get to work.”

Charlie finished his speech and turned to you.

“So, we’re going to do a full run through of the play without costume. I want you to watch and take notes as to what we should fix or change. Our last set designer was good, but not anywhere near your talent level,” he smiled at you.

Your cheeks burned, “Okay, that sounds good.”

“Also,” he continued, “you should come to dinner with us tonight. Have you ever been to Guiseppe’s?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it,” you replied, digging a notebook out of your bag. You kept digging looking for a pen but could not find one. Charlie must’ve realized your dilemma and pulled a pen from his pocket, handing it to you.

“Thanks, I’ll take good care of it,” you said, examining what looked like an expensive pen.

“Keep it,” he said, “but seriously, come to dinner with us. You might just have fun.”

You smiled at him, and he smiled back, “Okay, I will.”

“Great.”

Charlie led you through the building to the stage area. You followed him to the middle of the audience stand where he seated himself, you placing yourself beside him. The theater was black from floor to ceiling and the lights eventually dimmed. The cast began their run through.

You watched intently, scribbling notes here and there. The entire time, you felt Charlie’s eyes on you. It was like they were burning a hole through your skull. The set was minimal, save for some lighting effects and transitions. The play was modern and you needed to keep the set minimal, but you had an idea. The play continued as you leaned into Charlie, whispering.

“So, I have an idea. I know you have this red background consistently throughout the entirety of the play,” you gestured to the stage and Charlie nodded, “I get that the color is symbolic for the betrayal and hatred exhibited in the characters, but what if we manipulated the dynamics of the lighting to better portray the rising action, climax, and fall?”

“What do you suggest?” he asked, writing down notes.

“Well, what if we programmed the background to more opaque the closer it got to the climax? For example, at the beginning, it would be a solid black screen. With each encounter our main character faces or a new situation that leads to the climax, it slowly gradients. And, eventually, at the major climax, the screen is completely red as it is now. Then, during the fall, it gradients back out. Not only would it give variation in the background, it would also represent the tragedy our character is facing.”

Charlie studied you for a moment, “That’s actually a great idea. I can get Tate to work on that for you. He’s our IT and lighting guy.”

“Perfect,” you said. You were so happy with Charlie’s acceptance of your idea.

The day continued pretty much the same. Multiple run throughs of the show and Charlie stopping every now and then to make a comment or criticize the actors. Tate was able to program the lighting background for the full dress rehearsal. It fit perfectly and Charlie completely sang your praises on it. Your first day at the theater company was coming to a close.

“Ready for dinner?” Charlie asked, approaching you from behind. He was carrying your bag, his coat, and his briefcase. He handed your bag to you.

“Sure,” you said, taking your bag, “how far is it? I drove today.”

“Oh, it’s just a couple blocks. We can walk.”

The two of you walked the couple blocks to the restaurant and discussed the play on the way there. Charlie had submitted for the play to move to Broadway and he said that he should be hearing from them soon. He was so passionate when he spoke about his work, you wondered if he was the same in his personal life. You rounded the corner to Guiseppe’s where some of the crew was waiting out front. You followed them into the back corner of the restaurant where a large booth was waiting to seat you all. You slid in beside Frank and Charlie sat next to you at the edge of the booth.

Dinner was great and the food was fucking good. You ordered some Italian dish that Charlie suggested. The crew talked and drank amongst themselves. You and Charlie talked extensively about your hobbies and what you did in your spare time. He told you about his son, Henry, who sounded like the sweetest boy in the world. He told you he was in the middle of an ugly divorce from his ex Nicole. You wanted to ask more, but figured this wasn’t the time nor the place. As the night went on, the lights in the restaurant dimmed and a stage light came on in the distance. You hadn’t noticed the stage before. A man stood there with a microphone next to a piano.

“Alright ladies and gents, it’s time for karaoke. Who’s up first?!”

“Karaoke?” you asked Charlie.

He chuckled, “Yeah, it’s volunteer. Sometimes they will grab someone from the crowd to sing. Every now and then we get a really good singer.” He tossed back the rest of his drink.

“Do you sing, Charlie?” you asked, leaning forward on the table. Frank adjusted next to you, causing you to scoot closer to Charlie. Your leg pressed against his and you blushed. Charlie, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the contact.

“I do,” he replied. For whatever reason, in this moment, you desperately wanted to kiss him.

Musicians and singers filled the air around you. Charlie just stared deep into your eyes, and you into his. The silence between the two of you was deafening to the point it drowned out the sounds around you. You weren’t sure how long you held one another’s gaze until a man with a microphone at the end of the table pulled your attention away from him.

“What about you, lil lady?” he asked, pointing the microphone towards you, “come on down and sing us a line!”

“Oh—uhm. I don’t know, that’s probably not…” you muttered.

Cheers from the tables around you erupted and Charlie laughed, “Now’s your chance to let me hear you sing,” he said. He got up from the table, gesturing for you to exit. Your hands were sweating at the thought of putting your hidden talent on display for a full restaurant.

However, you exited the booth and made your way toward the stage. There was only one song you were comfortable enough to sing in front of others—but you had to play the piano. You looked back out into the audience as you sat on the piano bench and noticed Charlie had moved closer to the stage. Studying you, as always. You took a deep breath and stilled your shaking hands as your fingers began to dance across the keys.

Chords and melodies of Elton John’s “Your Song” flooded the room, gathering the attention from onlookers. You gulped as you began to sing:

“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside… I’m not one of those who can easily hide…” your voice rang out over the piano but melted together in harmony. You stole a quick glance to the audience to see Charlie leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a smile on his face. You continued:

“I don’t have much money but boy, if I did…I’d buy a big house where we both could live…”

You continued your song, every now and then stealing a glance at Charlie who was in the same position as before, a smile on his face. You held the last piano chord until it faded out, standing next to the piano. Applause erupted around you, including from Charlie, who gave you a standing ovation. You gave a small bow before moving from the stage to stand with Charlie.

His eyes searched your face as he spoke, “That was incredible! You… you’re incredible.” He stole a glance down to your lips before being interrupted by the crew.

“That was awesome!” Frank said.

Another woman said you should be in the show. You thanked them for their compliments and exited the restaurant with Charlie. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten or that the temperature would be so cold on the walk back. You hugged your torso for warmth as Charlie walked you to your car. He paused briefly, and before you could turn, he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders. The material swallowed you and your cheeks burned at the gesture. A silent understanding of thanks passed between the two of you as he placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the parking garage. His touch sent electricity through your body and heat pooled in your lower belly.

You finally reached your car and you handed Charlie’s jacket back to him.

“Thank you for that,” you said, wringing your hands in front of you.

He cleared his throat, “Uhm, no problem.” He had his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. It was at this moment, you realized that there was more going on here than just being work partners.

The wind whipped wildly around you, causing your hair to blow in your face. Charlie reached forward, tucking the hair behind your ear. You shuddered at the contact. As much as you wanted this, it was too soon. You wanted him. Oh fuck, how bad you wanted him.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you Monday,” you said, opening the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah…Monday,” Charlie repeated, holding the door frame.

You smiled at him, “Thank you, for everything. You’re very sweet, Charlie.”

He returned your smile as you closed the door and drove away.

The drive home was excruciating. Your mind was reeling from your day spent with Charlie. You couldn’t believe how quickly you fell for him. Holy fuck. You’d had plenty of shitty boyfriends, horrible blind dates, and ridiculous Tinder fails…But this was different. Leaving him standing there punched a hole right through your chest. And to be honest, you didn’t even know if he felt the same.

You crossed the threshold of your townhome and immediately went upstairs to your bedroom, stripping from your clothes, and running a bath. You slipped down into the hot water, bubbles sloshing up the side of the tub. You tied your hair in a bun when your phone dinged on the side table. It was Charlie.

“Thank you for accompanying me to dinner,” the text read, “I really enjoyed spending the evening with you. You are—as I said before—incredible. Have a goodnight, honey.”

Oh god. Oh fuck. You were too stunned to even respond. You put your phone face down and submerged into the bath.

Of all the things you thought you would be doing on Friday night, masturbating to the thought of Charlie Barber fucking you senseless was not one of them. And yet, here you are—deep in bath water, rubbing circles around your swollen clit and crying out his name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 3! Hope you enjoy!

The weekend went by in a flash. You spent the two days digging into your work, finally investing some time in your hobbies, and talking to Charlie. Yes, you finally responded to him—the next morning after you spent the night fantasizing about him. You weren’t sure how many times you orgasmed at the thought of him sliding his cock in you. You eventually just passed out from exhaustion.

Charlie texted you on and off throughout the weekend. He told you he had to fly out to LA early Saturday morning for part of his divorce hearings. You felt bad for him—how Nicole was doing things. You had heard rumors around the theater that the split was ugly and it was mostly from her own doing. They apparently had agreed to not use lawyers and separate amicably, but she hired one of the most ruthless divorce lawyers in California, completely blindsiding Charlie. That, and she had moved their son across the country just to serve Charlie the papers there.

You packed your bag for the day, grabbing the extra loaf of banana bread you had made for Charlie. You hoped that after the weekend he had, it would at least brighten his day some.

You had just sat down on the subway when your phone dinged in your pocket.

_Hey, I’m going to be a little late,_ Charlie said, _so you can just work in my office today if you want. The cast is working on individual tasks._

You smiled, texting back, _Okay, that’s fine. I have a surprise for you._

_Really? What would that be?_

_You’ll just have to find out, Mr. Barber._ That definitely sounded like a loaded message after you sent it. Why are you like this.

 _I can’t wait to see you,_ was his reply.

The subway came to a halt and you made your way up the stairs and into the theater building. You greeted Sylvia as you made your way into Charlie’s office. She said hello and smiled at you. She was such a sweet soul, which made you feel like literal shit for being rude to her that day.

This was the first time you actually got to look around Charlie’s office. The door closed softly behind you as you sat your stuff down on the chaise lounge at the back of the room. Books lined the walls and his desk was crowded, but a sort of tidy crowded. Artwork from various theater productions hung from the walls and a small assortment of awards were stacked on a shelf. You settled into the lounge with your laptop to work.

Time ticked by so slowly and you quickly realized that without Charlie there to dictate tasks to you, you didn’t have much work to do. You busied yourself looking through the books on the shelf. You randomly picked one, returning to your spot on the lounge, kicking off your boots and tucking your feet underneath you.

“Tess of the d’Urbervilles” by Thomas Hardy was what you had selected. This story was one you had read previously and didn’t remember much about…Other than Tess’ long lost relative giving her a job and seducing her. Typical. You immersed yourself in the first couple chapters of the novel before the door abruptly opening scared the fuck out of you, causing you to yelp and launch the book across the room.

Charlie stood there with his briefcase and two coffees and a face full of amusement.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” you said, brushing past him to retrieve your book.

He laughed, “Sorry, but I do come bearing gifts.”

He handed you an iced coffee. One look at the label and you realized he remembered your order. “You know my order now?”

“I mean, it’s not _that_ difficult of an order,” he smirked, sitting his stuff down on the desk. “You’ve practically moved in here—no shoes, stuff all over the couch.” He gestured to the mess of paperwork and items you had strung out.

Your face burned, “Sorry, I can head out if you want or if you need to get work done.” You slid your boots back on.

Charlie sat on the edge of his desk, “No, I want you to stay.”

You gnawed your bottom lip, “Okay…Oh—I have something for you as well!”

Retrieving your storage container full of banana bread, you crossed the room to stand in front of him. Even resting on the desk, he still fucking towered over you. You hadn’t been this close to him since Friday…or since you—well, ya know.

“Here,” you handed him the container and he immediately popped it open. “I figured I’d make you some too.”

“I remember you told me you liked to cook,” he said, tossing a piece in his mouth, “this is really fucking good. Thank you,” he set the container down, “I don’t remember the last time someone cooked for me.”

Your brows furrowed, “Really?” You thought about Nicole, didn’t she ever cook for him?

“Really,” he swallowed, “I normally did all the cooking when she was still here. I normally did anything she didn’t want to do. Which included cooking and cleaning.” He rolled his eyes.

“Uhm, well…Would you want to come over for dinner tonight?” You wringed your hands in front of you and hair fell in your face.

Charlie—almost instinctively—reached up, tucking the hair behind your ear. His fingers lightly skimmed the curve of your jaw and his eyes danced around your face. His touch sent chills down your skin.

“I’d really like that,” he replied, his voice not much higher than a whisper.

Your eyes fell to his lips. Fuck, you wanted to taste them so bad. You met his eyes again, him slowly leaning into you—his breath hot against your mouth.

A knock at the door interrupted the two of you, your lips literal centimeters from one another.

“Are you fucking serious,” you complained, separating yourself from Charlie. He chuckled, moving around to sit at his desk, you leaning on the side.

“Yeah?” Charlie hollered. You picked a piece of the banana bread for yourself and played with a stack of papers on his desk. He smiled at you, his cheeks flushed the same as yours.

A petite woman stuck her head in the door frame. You had come to know her as Mary Ann and she always had a distasteful look on her face. This encounter was no different.

She stilled in the doorway, jaw clenched, and eyes flitting back and forth between the two of you.

Charlie spoke up, “What is it, Mary Ann?” His tone was harsh, for whatever reason. You had never heard him speak to someone so firmly.

She stammered, “I, uh. I was just seeing if you made it in yet.” And she turned, closing the door behind her.

“That was weird,” you said, taking another bite of the treat you made for Charlie.

He sighed, “Yeah…” He stood gathering some papers from his desk. He playfully nudged your hip, “Stop eating my snacks.”

You laughed, “Okay, _Mr. Barber._ ” He swallowed thickly at the way you addressed him, peering down at you.

He licked his lower lip, “C’mon, let’s get to the stage seating.”

+++++++++

The rest of your day continued as it had previously on Friday. The cast ran through the play and Charlie took notes. Every now and then he would stop the production to make changes. The lighting update you suggested worked phenomenally with the aspects of the play. Charlie got pulled away to a meeting to discuss the possible Broadway premiere, so you donated your time to helping the cast clean up behind stage.

The crew began to file out for the evening, so you made your way back to Charlie’s office to gather your things. You passed Sylvia as she was leaving.

“Hey Sylvia, is he in there?” you asked, gesturing to the office door.

“He is, he hasn’t come out all afternoon,” she said, “have a good night!” She continued outside onto the street.

You knocked on the door and no answer. You peeked in to see sweet Charlie, head down on his desk, slight snoring coming from his still form. Quietly, you crossed the room, seating yourself on his desk beside him. He looked absolutely exhausted. His hair had fallen down in his face. You desperately wanted to run your fingers through it. Your hand shook nervously, but you lightly ran your fingers through his raven locks.

“Charlie, wake up,” you chimed, fingers dancing around the loose strands. He roused beneath your hand, giving you a sleepy smile as he realized you had been playing with his hair. Charlie leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes caught the slightest glimpse of his midriff and it was enough to make you squirm on the desk.

“That’s the hardest I’ve slept in days,” he said, “but it helps waking up to a beautiful woman sitting on my desk.”

He rested his hand on your lap, lightly squeezing your thigh. You felt your face flush and your cunt drench all in the same second.

“Holy shit,” his eyes went wide as he jumped up from the chair in excitement, “I have to tell you! We’re going to fucking Broadway!”

“Charlie, that’s amazing!” he took you into a hug, completely swallowing your frame. “I’m so proud of you,” you said against his shoulder.

You pulled back from him and he wore the biggest smile, “We’re going to fucking Broadway,” he said again in disbelief, running a hand through his hair.

“When?”

He looked at you, “This Saturday.”

Saturday!?

“That’s so soon,” you said, slightly panicking at the thought of transitioning the set to a different venue.

“Hey,” he pulled your chin to look at him with his hand, “it will be great. Don’t stress.”

You pulled your lip between your teeth, “Okay, okay…Are you ready for a celebratory dinner?” you asked as he held your hand, helping you off his desk.

“Hell yes, I’m famished,” he grabbed his coat and briefcase as the two of you headed out of the office. He reached around, taking your bag, and slinging it over his shoulder. The gesture startled you, Charlie smirked.

You made your way out onto the street when you remembered that you took the subway this morning.

“Oh, I didn’t drive today—I took the subway.”

“That’s fine,” he said, “I drove. You can ride with me.”

Charlie led you to his parked car, opening the door for you as you slid in the passenger seat. You guided him through the city to upper Manhattan. The lights of the city twinkled as you drove by. Charlie turned onto your street and you pointed to your Jeep in the driveway, instructing him to park behind it.

“This is nice,” he said, getting out of the car and looking around your street. Your part of the neighborhood was quiet for New York.

“Thanks,” you said, attempting to grab your bag from the backseat before Charlie took it. He chuckled, you rolled your eyes.

You unlocked the door to your house and the two of you crossed the threshold. You had to admit…It was weird having another man in your home. It had been a long time since you had entertained anybody, in fact.

“Feel free to look around,” you said, “I pride myself on keeping my home clean, so I don’t think you will find much out of order,” you laughed. Charlie kicked his shoes off at the front door and proceeded to look around your living room, examining the various works of art and books that adorned the shelves. His fingers traced the spines of the books as he shook his head.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s just so funny…How much you remind me of myself. I guess I’m thinking, ‘where have you been my whole life?’” He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair.

Fucking hell, he’s so pitiful.

“Well, if we are so much alike…I’m going to assume you like your steak medium-rare?” you turned, walking towards the kitchen. You heard Charlie follow behind you.

He sat on one of the bar stools at the island, “You would assume correctly, honey.”

You flushed, digging in the refrigerator. You figured tonight you would fix some steak, roasted vegetables, and mashed potatoes for dinner. You had some yeast roll dough you had prepared and frozen earlier in the week that you set out as well.

“Wine or beer?” you asked Charlie.

“Hm, beer.”

You slid two beers and a bottle opener across the counter to him as you preheated the oven. Charlie popped them open, sliding yours back across the counter.

“Can I help with anything?” he looked like he was dying to help you cook.

“Do you want to help me cut up some veggies?”

He took a swig of his drink, “Absolutely.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, every now and then exchanging smiles. You roasted the vegetables in the oven and boiled potatoes to mash. At this point, you were thankful to have Charlie there because—if you don’t know—mashing potatoes the traditional way can be tiresome. After searing your steaks and plating the food, the two of you sat down at the table for dinner. The entire experience with Charlie was so heart-warming and made you feel at home.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Charlie asked, finishing his food.

You laughed, “Because you eat like the food is going to run away from you.”

“Well, when the food is this good, I can’t get enough,” he wiped his mouth with a napkin, “you’re a phenomenal cook.”

“Awh, thanks,” you stood, clearing the table of the dishes and starting water in the sink.

“Here,” Charlie came behind you, “let me.”

Charlie washed and rinsed the dishes while you dried and put them away. The simplicity—and domesticity— of the moment was enough to make your heart surge.

“I’d offer you dessert, but I only have banana bread,” you said, putting the last pieces of cutlery away.

He chuckled, “I am beyond stuffed at this point,” he leaned against the counter, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, “What do you want to do now?”

You shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me. I normally just read or watch tv on the couch,” you looked down at your shirt you had accidentally gotten wet. Ugh.

“Well,” he tossed the towel on the counter and took your hand, “how about I find us something to watch while you change out of those wet clothes.”

“Okay,” you smiled at him before turning up the stairs to your room.

Oh, god. Oh, fuck. Your head was spinning with the night you were having. Your face hurt from how much you were smiling at him. Could he feel the same? Then you thought about his ex-wife. Did he ever look at her like that? Well, yeah, he probably did at one point—but now? And he has a kid! Would you be ready for that if something were to come from this?

You changed quickly, throwing on some comfy clothes. You descended the stairs to see Charlie reclined on the chaise lounge part of the couch with his arm resting across the top, reruns of Twilight Zone playing on the tv. You plopped down beside him, tucking your feet under you. You had gotten so comfortable around him that you hadn’t paid attention to the fact you were practically leaned into him. He didn’t seem to mind the contact.

You turned your head toward him, wringing your hands in your lap, “I’ve had a really great day with you, Charlie.”

He gave you a small smile, “I have with you, too.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. You rested your head against his shoulder as he drew small circles in your upper arm with his thumb.

The smell of Charlie Barber filled your senses as you relaxed into him. He smelled of sandalwood and clean laundry, an aroma that made you close your eyes in bliss. His large frame breathed against yours as the two of you sat in a contented silence—the sound of his heart beat thumping in your ear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you still following this story, thanks for hanging in there with me! So sorry this chapter took forever. I got a promotion and moved to a government position for my state, so my schedule has been insane. I hope you enjoy.

_Fuck, it’s bright,_ you thought as you tried to wake up from a very deep sleep.

Light streamed through your lashes as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes. Once you came to your senses, you realized you had fallen asleep in the living room. Not only had you fallen asleep in the living room, you were laid atop a snoring Charlie Barber.

You stilled.

 _Oh shit,_ you thought. He had stayed?! At what point did the two of you fall asleep? As much as you wanted him in every fucking way possible, this was definitely not the plan. You did, however, enjoy the warmth his massive form was emitting as you laid against him. You shifted slightly trying to reach your phone on the coffee table to check the time. The slight movement was enough to wake Charlie.

“Hey,” he yawned, stretching his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to the side.

“Hey, yourself,” you replied, pushing up from his chest. “You stayed.” The two of you repositioned to sit beside one another.

He chuckled, “Yeah, well, you made it pretty difficult to leave. You fell asleep about two episodes in and you had a death grip on me.”

You flushed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

He took your hand, brushing his thumb across your knuckles, “Don’t be sorry, I love your company.”

You looked at Charlie’s tousled bed head and his sleepy eyes. As much as you could’ve stared at him like this forever, the clock in the background on the wall caught your attention.

“It can’t be,” you said, jumbling for your phone. 9:54 a.m. “Fuck, Charlie, it’s almost 10!”

“Shit,” he said rising from the couch and looking at his watch. He ran a hand through his wild hair, “There is no way I have time to go home to get ready.”

“You can shower here,” you replied, plugging your phone into charge, “do you have spare clothes?”

“Yeah, I still have my suitcase in the car. I’ll grab it.”

You started up the stairs, throwing your hair in a bun, “Okay, I’m going to shower. The shower is in my bedroom. I won’t be long.”

Charlie ran outside as you went upstairs. You threw the water on, stripped, and hopped in. The water was still heating up and chilled you to the bone. You showered quickly and wrapped a towel around you, hurrying into your bedroom to see Charlie going through his suitcase on the bed.

His eyes raked over your naked, towel-covered frame before quickly diverting back to the clothing pile. You ran into the closet, partially to hide your reddened face and partially to prevent yourself from dropping the towel right there in front of him.

“Towels are in the cabinet!” you hollered from inside the closet.

“Thanks,” Charlie said before you heard the bathroom door shut and water start back up.

You dug quickly through your closet, adding piece by piece of clothing as you went. You ended up donning a form-fitting camel colored mini skirt with an oversized black sweater and black over the knee boots. You heard Charlie exit the bathroom, signaling for you to run in and quickly throw on makeup and arrange a messy bun atop your head. You vaguely watched in the mirror as Charlie dressed behind you. His chest and stomach were sculpted and glistened in the sunlight as water droplets rolled down his skin from his soaked hair. Charlie’s head turning your way snapped your attention back to finishing applying your mascara.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” Charlie said, standing in the doorway behind you. You were fussing with your hair, aggravated with the fly-away hairs around your face.

“You look beautiful,” he said, coming to your side and pulling your hand away from your face. You turned to him, your heart thumping erratically and you momentarily forgot how to breathe. He peered down at you, tucking the stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face flush and your cunt ache all in the same instance.

“I, uh…We should probably head out,” you managed, eyes locked on his full lips.

He sighed, squeezing your hand, “As much as I’d like to argue, you’re right.”

You grabbed an extra sweater, leggings, and slides just in case the outfit you were in didn’t work out. The skirt was from a few years back and your ass had definitely grown since then. The two of you made your way downstairs and out the door, Charlie tossing your bags in his car as you locked up.

The drive to the theater was mostly silent, except for the small outbursts of “fuck” and “shit” Charlie had at the traffic. Any time he did, you laughed. You had finally made it to the theater around 11 a.m. The two of you basically rolled out of the car, Charlie packing your stuff has he had done previously. He led you to a side door that opened up to the staircase you had previously climbed when you first met the cast and crew. You walked ahead of him, your ass practically eye level with him as he followed you up the stairs. You could practically feel him staring a hole through it.

You reached the landing near the door and paused. What would they think if the two of you strolled in together? Not only together, but _this_ late together? What would they think of him? You pulled your lip between your teeth as Charlie stepped around to face you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, adjusting the shoulder strap of his briefcase.

You wringed your hands in front of you, “Should we walk in together? I mean—god, this probably sounds so stupid. I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea or, uhm, like…” you stammered, “think we’re together...ya know, like that.”

He edged toward you, backing you against the wall. The coolness from the concrete against your back put a stark comparison from the heat coming from Charlie’s body as he almost pressed against you.

“Why would that be such a bad thing for them to think?” he murmured, wrapping a hand up your waist.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” you breathed, chest rising to crush your breasts against his form. “I just—with your divorce…I don’t want to cause problems.”

He smirked. Oh fuck, how you loved when he did that quirky move with his perfect mouth. “That is the least of my concerns. There is only a certain problem I have with you at the moment.” His grip tightened on your waist.

Your hands trembled as you grasped the front of his jacket, pulling him closer to you, “And what would that be?” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

His jaw clenched as he slid his hand up and around your neck, lightly applying pressure. His eyes searched yours as his thumb traced the outline of your lips, “How fucking bad I want you.”

You didn’t think, you just acted. You parted your lips, lightly kissing his thumb as you spoke, “Then you can have me.”

He cupped your jaw with his massive hand, cautiously leaning in towards you. You panted in anticipation, desperate to feel him. He pressed his full lips against yours. Sparks ignited through your veins as his mouth moved hotly against yours. You parted your lips for him, practically begging for his tongue. Your tongues swirled together, teething chattering as the two of you pulled at one another, desperate for more contact, more touch, more of each other.

The sound of the metal door to the conference room screeched open, causing the two of you to separate. Mary Ann stood in the doorway, frigid as she stared at the both of you. Your face burned as you noticed your lipstick smeared against Charlie’s mouth. He readjusted his clothes you had torn at.

“Yes?” Charlie spat at her. She looked as if she could cry.

“I—we were just wondering where you were. I was going to step out and try giving you a call, but I can see you were rather…Occupied.” She narrowed her eyes at you. You scowled, stepping beside Charlie and enveloping your hand in his. She grimaced at the sight of your entwined hands.

 _She’s so fucking weird,_ you thought. Although, you knew deep down there was more going on here than you knew about.

“Well, we’re here now, so let’s get to work,” Charlie said, pushing by her in the door, you followed behind him.

“What was that about?” you asked him.

“Later,” he whispered, leading you into the room. “We have a lot of work to do.”

+++++++++

The rest of the day went on as normal. Charlie had informed the cast and crew of the great, yet unexpected, news. They were ecstatic and terrified all in the same instance. With the weekend closing in for the show, the two of you were on crunch time trying to get things set up on Broadway. You both had a meeting with the stage manager on Broadway the next day to discuss your stage set up and when you would be able to basically move in.

Charlie had spent the last portion of his day in his office going over paperwork and details regarding the transition as well as finalizing ticket transfers to the new venue. He had seemed high-strung all day, but you didn’t push it. Between the stress of the coming weekend and the strange encounter with Mary Ann earlier that day, letting him have alone time that afternoon seemed like the best option.

However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his mouth moved against yours. How his hand completely covered your throat. How his body pushed you into the wall. You daydreamed the majority of the day, desperate to be near him again. There were a few times you had gotten so caught up in your imagination that you had to step away from the group to calm down. Fucking hell, it had been so long since you felt any type of way about any man. Charlie was different and you fucking hoped he felt the same about you.

You finished up in the IT room, filing your stuff away in your bag. You figured you would take the subway back home tonight. You had just slung your bag on your arm when you heard the door open behind you. You thought it was Charlie.

“Hey, I was just about to—” you paused as you turned to see Mary Ann standing there, not Charlie.

“You were about to what?” she asked, tensing in the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest.

You scoffed, “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I was going to ask Charlie what our plans were for the evening.” You halfway lied.

Her jaw clenched, “It is my concern.”

“And why is that? I don’t remember him saying you were the one he was getting divorced from,” you rolled your eyes, trying to step around her into the hallway.

“No, he’s not, but I am the one he fucked while he was still married to her,” she replied.

You stopped, peering down at her. He had slept with Mary Ann? While he hadn’t disclosed that information to you, was it really any of your concern? Not really, you hadn’t talked about any of your past partners. Still, though. It kinda stung.

“And why should I be concerned with that? I don’t care who he fucked before me,” you said that like you had actually fucked yet—which you were definitely hoping for. “Just like he doesn’t care about my past.”

“You should,” she hissed, “he chose me over her, his own wife.”

You laughed, “Trust me, I’m not concerned by a side bitch that he has obviously moved on from. Ya know, especially considering how he talks to you.” You shoved past her and started down the hallway.

“He cares about me!” she shouted down the hallway.

You turned to her, “Girl, you are fucking delusional. Move on. If he cared about you like you think he does, he wouldn’t have slept at my place last night.”

Her face turned red with anger as she stormed down the other direction. You rolled your eyes, continuing to Charlie’s office. Yeah, you definitely weren’t expecting to find out that he had fucked her, but like you said, it’s not any of your concern who he fucked with before you.

You had just stepped in front of Charlie’s closed office door when you heard a loud crash and him yelling, “FUCK!” inside the office.

You threw the door open, worried that something might’ve happened to Charlie. But there he was—on his knees in the center of the room, his head in his hands. Shattered glass, stray papers, and books laid around him as he took heaving breaths, his fingers grasping at his scalp. This was not the well-put-together Charlie you were used to seeing and it made your heart ache.

You placed your bag on the floor and cautiously approached him, as not to frighten a wounded animal.

“Hey,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around his in his hair. He jolted initially, and then relaxed in your grasp. He peered up at you through his disheveled hair, his face reddened and tears brimmed in his eyes. You crouched in front of him, him still towering over you on his knees. You brushed his hair from his eyes and wiped a fallen tear.

“She’s winning…She’s fucking winning,” he said through gritted teeth. It took you a moment, but you realized—Nicole. The divorce. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. You just wanted to hold him, to comfort him and show him that you were here—that you were on his side. You didn’t have the words, so you just acted.

You stood, pulling him up with you. You walked him to the sofa, seating him there. He looked so exhausted, a lot different than he had this morning. His massive form took up the majority of the seating, something you had not considered. You gnawed your lip, knowing what your next move was and hoping to whatever higher power is out there that it wasn’t too much…Especially after your little entanglement in the stairway this morning.

You adjusted your skirt, lifting it slightly to allow your legs to spread as you moved to straddle on top of him. His eyes snapped to yours at the movement, his hands instinctively going to your waist as he cradled you against him. Neither of you spoke—you didn’t have to. He stared into you that made you feel like a hole was burning through your soul. You threaded your hands through his hair and placed the most delicate kiss against his lips, holding that contact for what felt like fleeting seconds.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he spoke, “You don’t know how much I need you right now.”

“I’m here,” you replied, eyes fluttering shut as he drew circles at your lower back. He cupped your jaw, pressing his full lips to yours. Your mouths moved lazily against one another, drinking each other in. You unconsciously ground against him, eliciting immediate reaction from Charlie.

He pulled you tighter against him, his lips moving from yours to your neck. He peppered kisses along your jawline and down to your collar bones as his hands moved to squeeze your ass. You moaned at the sensation, lulling your head to the side as he nipped at the sensitive skin behind your ear. You grasped at his shirt, attempting to fumble with the buttons, when Charlie’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He ignored it at first, but when the incessant ringing droned on, he grumbled in frustration.

“Mother fucker,” he complained as he looked at the phone screen and then tossing it to the side. You quickly glanced to see the caller ID. Mary Ann. Great.

You sighed, pushing some stray hair from your face, “Well,” you chuckled, “that was good while it lasted.”

Charlie smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “Very good.”

You sat there in silence for a moment, threading your hands through Charlie’s. You felt his eyes on you the entire time.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” Charlie finally broke the silence.

You flushed slightly, “I’d love to.”


End file.
